


Because of Me

by Blink_Blue



Series: Symbols [5]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 17:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink_Blue/pseuds/Blink_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stress of murder night 2.0 becomes too much for Connor to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because of Me

Oliver slowly steps into the room. The blinds are drawn shut. But, being midday, sunlight still seeps into the small room. The bright overhead fluorescent lights too draw Oliver’s attention to the man laying on the bed.

_He’s just resting, the nurse at the desk had told him. Go on, you can visit him._

So here Connor lays, curled on his side, facing away from the door. He’s got the thin sheets pulled all the way up to his neck. The various equipment surrounding the large bed makes him seem even smaller.

He lays still.

Oliver tenses as he watches him. He had scrambled over to the hospital as fast as he could, running red lights and nearly hitting pedestrians in his desperate attempt to get to his boyfriend–no… ex-boyfriend… It’s a miracle he hadn’t been pulled over. There were a million thoughts racing through his head, along with the intense feeling of shear panic mixed with a hefty dose of guilt. But now that he’s here, he can’t seem to think of a single thing to say. Nothing that could possibly fix things, nothing that could fix _them._

His footsteps must not have been as quiet as he had hoped, because Connor’s head moves slightly, just enough to peek over his shoulder. He groans audibly as soon as he sees Oliver, drops his head back, and shifts under the sheets like he wants to disappear into them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks harshly. But his voice is hoarse, and it takes away the bite of it. His skin is pale, paler than Oliver had ever seen him. He looks worse than that time he got the flu and was sick in bed for three straight days. The ugly hospital gown hangs loose on him, accentuating his already thin frame. This isn’t the Connor he’s used to seeing.

Oliver opens his mouth, but he hesitates as he watches Connor struggle to sit up in the bed while pulling the sheets up against him as high as they’ll go. He fights every bone in his body not to step forward and help him. He’s not sure if he has the right to. “Michaela called me,” he finally whispers.

Connor doesn’t look at him. He just shakes his head and looks the other way.

“Just go away… please… just–just leave me alone.”

“Connor…” He takes a step closer to the bed, but it’s like his legs just stop functioning, because he’s stuck after that first step. He looks at the other man, _really_ looks at him. There are dark circles under Connor’s eyes, his hair looks a limp mess, and his hands shake as they grip the sheets close to his body. If he had thought Connor looked bad the night before… Not that he looks much better himself. His eyes are swollen from crying, his voice hoarse from yelling, and nothing had relieved the pain of ending things with Connor. It was the worst night of his life. Worse than his grandmother’s death, worse than Connor cheating on him, worse than the HIV diagnosis. 

Obviously, Connor had been hurting too. But he couldn’t see it at the time through the haze of his own shock and anger. When the truth came out, all he could see were the lies, spun so thick he couldn’t even recognize the man he loved. But now the man in front of him looks so broken, he’s not sure if he knows how to put him back together.

“Can you just go?” Connor mumbles. He looks so defeated, so _tired_ , so small and helpless in the bed.

Oliver’s breath hitches. No, he’s not about to start crying again. He can’t. Not when it took him hours to stop the first time. He just shakes his head. But Connor can’t see that anyway because he’s got his head bowed, staring into his lap. His hair has fallen into his face, and Oliver wants nothing more than to take the younger man’s face into his hands, brush the hair out of his eyes, and take back all the words he had said last night. He just wants them to be okay again.

But it’s never that easy. And Oliver finds himself at a loss for what to do.

“You said you were leaving me, right?” Connor croaks, finally looking up at him. His eyes are red, and his pain is so vulnerably displayed on his face. “So leave, damnit!”

Oliver shuts his eyes for a second–it’s too much. The pain, terror, and anger of the previous two nights, it all comes back and hits him in the gut like a sucker punch. Add on the fear, worry, and panic of this morning, well… he just feels like a whirlwind of too many emotions right now.

And every single one of them is because of Connor Walsh.

“I’m not…” He trails off when he looks up and sees Connor’s red rimmed eyes watching him. He doesn’t look angry or hostile. His eyes are sad and defeated, and he just looks exhausted. Oliver takes a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry,” is all that he finally says.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” Connor looks away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “This was just a stupid, _stupid_ thing…”

“I didn’t–I never thought you would–” He breaks off because he just can’t say the words. He had never thought in a million years… never imagined that Connor would do something like that.

Connor’s still shaking his head, looking… ashamed? Regretful? “It was just a stupid thing…”

“That you did because of me.” Oliver finishes for him. 

They both stop. Memories of another conversation flood their minds. Another instance where a reckless decision clouded by grief, made without thinking, led to disastrous consequences.

Connor slowly lifts his head to meet his eyes. Oliver can see tears threatening to spill over. “It wasn’t because of you,” he says softly. “I–I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m not…”

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” Oliver says. He’s scared, anxious, and stumbling over his words. Everything had fallen apart so suddenly. How could everything have changed so quickly? “The night before, when you didn’t come home–I was freaking out–and then when you did–you were such a mess, and when you told me–everything… I–I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“It’s fine,” Connor murmurs solemnly. “You were right. You were right to leave me.”

“Connor, I still care about you–”

“Look I get it,” Connor cuts him off suddenly. “You were worried about me. But I’m fine. It was just a stupid thing I did when I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t in my right mind, okay? I–I hadn’t slept in over 48 hours. There was so much going on with… Annalise and Sinclair… and–and then with us. But I’m fine. They’re discharging me today. So I’m fine. So you can go now.”

“I’m not leaving,” Oliver says stubbornly.

“Oliver…”

“You can’t just… you can’t just expect me to stop caring!” Connor’s head snaps up in shock and Oliver realizes he had raised his voice louder than he had meant to. He quickly sneaks a glance at the open door behind him–there’s no one in sight–before walking closer to the bed. He tries again and lowers his voice this time. “You can’t do something like this and not expect me to…” He struggles to find the words and just ends up wringing his hands through his hair in frustration. “Damnit Connor!”

Oliver drops his arms and reaches out for the sheet covering the other man. He snatches it back and starts climbing into the bed. “Move over.”

“What?” Connor stares at him in shock, as he’s forced to scoot over. “What the hell are you doing? Oliver, you’re not supposed to–”

“Move!”

“Ow! 

“Sorry–”

“–my pulse monitor.”

Oliver carefully moves the cord out of the way and continues to settle on to the small hospital bed. He reaches for the other man and pulls them back until they’re both lying together. He maneuvers until they’re both comfortable, Connor’s back against his front, and his own arm tightly wrapped around the other man. 

“Oliver,” comes Connor’s soft, gentle, hesitant voice. “We’re not supposed to–”

“I don’t care,” Oliver says firmly. “The nurses can _try_ to kick me out.”

“Ollie…” They both ignore the way his voice cracks. 

“I don’t care,” Oliver repeats, several more times for good measure. “I don’t care. I don’t care…” Until neither of them are quite sure what he’s referring to, breaking hospital rules, or the events that led to their break up.

They lay there silently for a while, both trying not to think about the horrible events that led them here. Oliver buries his face in the back of Connor’s short hair. He keeps telling himself, _he’s fine, Connor’s fine, he’s fine…_

“Don’t you ever do something so stupid again,” he murmurs into his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispers. “I–I don’t actually want to–” He trails off. Probably for the best because Oliver doesn’t want to hear him say it. He doesn’t even want to think about it. Subconsciously, his arm wraps itself tighter around the other man’s waist.

“Do you know how scared I was when I got that called from Michaela?” 

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispers again.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” He presses his lips against the back of Connor’s neck. The man’s skin is warm beneath his lips, a welcome reminder that he’s alive and well.

“I scared myself too,” Connor finally says after a moment.

“Do you remember anything?” Oliver hesitantly asks. 

Connor shifts slightly beside him, and gives a small nod. “I remember my heart was beating really fast. Like freakishly fast, I thought my chest was going to explode. I was really hot, and then really cold. And I couldn’t stop shaking. They kept having me drink that disgusting charcoal stuff, I can still taste it. My vision got really weird, I couldn’t think straight, and eventually I could barely talk. I wasn’t making any sense. It gets really fuzzy after that. It was like a bad trip.”

Oliver closes his eyes. He had never been more scared than when he got that phone call. He was terrified. Knowing that he could have lost Connor, in a way more permanent than the words they’d exchanged the night before, the terror and guilt that he felt… it was paralyzing.

“I remember regretting it,” Connor continues softly, “almost immediately. I was so scared. And then… all the feelings, the fear, the pain and despair… it all went away. And I think that was the worst part.” 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

Oliver reaches for Connor’s hand, buried within the sheets. When he finds it, he gives it a firm squeeze, which Connor returns. A silent gesture of affection as he tries to come up with the right words. Where do they stand now? Two days ago, their relationship was perfect. They were happy. Now… is it even possible for them to get past this? The lies, the secrets, and… this?

Oliver asks another question that had been plaguing him. “Why did you call Michaela and not me?”

The answer he receives is the one he had been afraid of. “I was afraid you wouldn’t pick up,” Connor whispers.

He tries to imagine it. Three in the morning, mere hours after he had kicked Connor out, and he had only just managed to cry himself to sleep. Would he have picked up the phone after seeing Connor’s name on the screen?

The answer terrifies him.

“I want you,” Oliver says suddenly, and he tugs on the other man’s arm to get him to turn to face him. “I want you, Connor. Whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself in. With… with Annalise, or Sam, or whoever the other one is–I don’t care, Connor. I don’t care what you’ve done. We’re in this together. And your mess is our mess now. When you told me, I freaked out. And–and I pushed you away, because I was mad, because I was hurt… but not because I didn’t love you. Whatever  _we’ll_ have to deal with, we’ll do it together, because nothing could be worse than my life without you.”

Connor takes a shaky breath against him. Tears run down his cheeks, and Oliver quickly reaches up a hand to brush them away. He suddenly realizes there are tears trailing down his own face.

“You mean that?”

Oliver nods. “I do. I want you, Connor, all of you.”

Connor’s fingers reach out for him, they bury themselves in his t-shirt, and he pulls him closer. He muffles his sobs in the other man’s neck, and Oliver’s arms tightly wrap around him. He holds him close as he shakes and cries. 

There were tears last night too, from both of them. But instead of comforting each other, they both pushed the other away.

Oliver will never do that again. Connor means too much to him. He’ll take him, flaws, imperfections, murders and all. 

Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> [x](http://winters-blue-children.tumblr.com)


End file.
